In that moment, I remember telling you the enigmas of my heart. The memories rushed in and everything I had wanted to say to you, I did. In that moment.
In the other lifetime.
In another reality, I remember your porcelain bones and pale speckled skin. Your eternal dry lips, constantly hidden behind a veil of apricot balm. The way you purse them when you get skeptical, and the shape they take when you laugh.
I can hear your laughter resonate in different rooms. Like velvet in the bedroom, uninhibited in the kitchen, careless in the hall. Your voice dances across the empty spaces like falling snowflakes and settle on the lapels of my jacket.
I told you everything I remembered about you.
And in that moment, you remembered me too.